Merlin's Retirement Home for Magical Elderly Folk
by Sylviecake231
Summary: What happens when Horace Slughorn, Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle all live in the same old people's home? Complete mayhem, that's what! Rated T for 'wizard swears', elderly men having tantrums and Tom Riddle's pink bunny slippers! Not a Voldemort/Dumbledore slash fic (five-shot).
1. Tom Riddle's Favourite TV Programme

Soo... this is a new story, obviously. Hope you like it! I loved the idea, and some credit goes to HumanlyWumanly for helping me come up with ideas, so thank you to her! Also, please review! This story is dedicated to all those Tom Riddle/Horace Slughorn/Albus Dumbledore fans out there!

In the small town of Godric's Hollow, the newly erected building was in chaos, as usual. Being in Godric's Hollow, it was of course a magical building, which housed magical people. Wizards and Witches.

Elderly Wizards and Witches, to be exact.

'Ha!' yelled Albus Dumbledore, one of the oldest occupants of the old people's home. 'Suck that, Tom!'

'You cheated!' screeched Tom. He never did like to be beaten at Bingo, and so grabbed Albus's card and put it right in front of his eyes in order to read it. Having red eyes with slit irises did have its drawbacks. 'How the hell did you do that! I was one away from winning!'

'Please, Mr Riddle, calm down! Other people are trying to have their naps, and you are causing a commotion!' flustered Madam Fontana, one of the carers.

'I will not calm down! He cheated!' Shouted Tom, as Albus stuck his tongue out at Tom. 'And don't you dare call me Tom! My name is Lord Voldemort, and you will kneel at my feet, and kiss my robes, filthy mudblood, because you clearly don't deserve to be in my presence!'

'I'm afraid I cannot have that kind of language in this home, Mr. Riddle. It also says 'Tom Riddle' on your birth certificate, so that is the name I will call you. I must tell you, you are no longer the leader of the Death Eaters, so don't expect me to kiss your robes.' Madam Fontana replied, less flustered this time. 'Go and have your bath now, Mr. Riddle, Madam O'Donnell is waiting. And don't forget to thank her; she bought you some new continent pads today. Eco-friendly ones.'

Tom took his walking stick, which was black, topped with a silver snake (he'd taken the idea off Lucius Malfoy) and hobbled out off the room, sulking and muttering under his breath.

'Hear that, Horace? I finally managed to beat Tom at Bingo!' Albus called, leaning back in a flowery armchair, and picking up a magazine on knitting patterns.

'What's that, Albus? I was just getting more crystallised pineapple,' replied an elderly man with little hair and an enormous walrus moustache.

'Not more crystallised pineapple, surely, Horace? You must have spent more money on that junk than I have family members.' This was said by Cygnus Black, a 50-ish man who was very pro-pureblood and was renowned for having a giant family.

'I'll be having that, Mr. Slughorn. You know that you're supposed to be on a diet,' said Augusta Longbottom, grabbing the box out of Horace's hands, and putting it in her large red handbag, though not before taking a piece out and eating it.

Horace stamped his feet at this.

'Give that back! That cost me 15 galleons, and it was the only deluxe box left!' Horace yelled, proceeding to hobble as fast as he could over to Augusta, and attack her handbag.

'What is going on here? Everyone seems to be fighting today!' Madam Fontana yelled, storming over. 'Emilia, I'm going to need your help. Horace is having a tantrum, again.'

Albus sucked in his breath. Emilia Winters was the most fierce and strictest carer in the whole retirement home, and everyone, even Tom, was scared of her.

'I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TWO HOURS, ANDTHIS HAS HAPPENED AGAIN?' Madam Winters stormed down the stairs, hands on hips. 'CALM DOWN OR WE WILL NOT BE WATCHING 'STRICTLY COME DANCING' TONIGHT!'

'Sorry, Madam Winters. Won't happen again.' Horace sat back down on his sofa.

'Ahh good. I never like that rubbish, anyway. I would rather watch 'Doctor Who',' Tom came back in the main sitting room, wearing a pink fluffy dressing gown and pink bunny slippers, his bald, pale head reflecting the light of the fire blazing merrily in the fireplace.

'No. You know it scares poor Horace, so if you don't want to watch 'Strictly Come Dancing', then you can have an early night,' Madam Fontana told him.

'Why do we even watch this muggle stuff, anyway?' Tom asked.

'So we can appreciate how muggles live without magic. And if you're about to tell me that muggles are scum, forget it!'

'My father was scum,' Tom muttered, before shuffling through into the kitchen to make himself a hot chocolate.

Much later, Madam Winters ordered everyone to go to bed. Albus tottered off to his room, full of books and awards and posters of the Deathly Hallows. Tom skulked off to his room filled with Slytherin banners and news articles about himself, and Horace hobbled as fast as he could to his room, where he knew he had a hidden stash of crystallised pineapple under his bed.

'What are you doing out of bed, Cygnus? You know that bedtime is at 9:30, no later!'

'Tom, please stop the hissing, we know you might think it's Parseltongue, but no one else appreciates it when they're trying to sleep!'

'Horace, go and brush your teeth, before we have to send you to St. Mungo's for tooth removal because you teeth will be so rotten!'

'Turn that light off, Albus! You will damage your eyes, reading so late at night under the covers with a torch! No wonder you have to wear glasses!'

Yep, it was just another normal evening at Merlin's Retirement Home for Magical Elderly Folk.


	2. When You Can't Kill Harry, Watch TV

'Tom? Come out!'

'I'm busy.'

Madam Fontana sighed. 'Tom, please come out your room now. You've been holed up in there for days plotting to kill that poor Potter boy, now could you please come out? It's not social to be stuck in your room all day long.'

There was a loud groan of frustration, and Madam Fontana heard the door being unlocked before Tom Riddle came into view in the doorway of his room. 'What is it now? I'm already late; I was supposed to be apparating to the Ministry to kill Harry Potter 20 minutes ago.'

'Mr. Riddle, you really need to organize your time better. What you need is a diary, so you can keep track of where you're meant to be at what time. Where's that one I got you for Christmas?'

Tom muttered something under his breath.

'What's that?'

'I said, I gave it to Arthur Weasley's daughter so she could open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the Basilisk within it so that I could take over the Magical world!'

'Oh Tom.' Madam Fontana shook her head in disappointment. 'You really are a naughty wizard, aren't you? You seem to spend all your time plotting and killing.'

Tom sighed in frustration. 'Well, I'm already too late to go and kill Harry Potter, so can I just go and watch Doctor Who?'

'Fine. But when Horace gets back from getting his crystallised pineapple, you have to turn it off; you know he's scared of it.

'Okay!' Tom grabbed his walking stick from inside his room and hobbled off excitedly. He hardly ever got to watch his favourite program, so when he did, it put him in a good mood for weeks afterwards.

'Where's Albus? We have to set off for the barbers in 5 minutes, and he's nowhere to be seen! You know how long it takes to trim and wash all that hair of his.' Madam Winters asked her.

'I told him he should cut it all off, but he never listens. He would never dream of cutting all his hair off,' replied Madam Fontana, going to knock on another nearby door.

'Gellert? Wake up, you lazy pig, or I refuse to bring you to the library so you can look up your precious Deathly Hallows.'

'Meh,' came a grunt from the other side of the door.

'Right.' Madam Fontana threw open the door, which had a poster of the Elder Wand on it, strode into the room, pulled off the duvet and stared down at the half-asleep blond elderly wizard in the bed.

'Go away, Mum. I don't have school today,' grunted Gellert in his sleep.

'Mr. Grindelwald, I am advising you to get out of bed this instant, or I will personally hunt down these so-called Deathly Hallows and destroy them.'

'WHAT! DON'T YOU DARE!' Gellert shot out of bed and pulled on a deep red dressing gown with the Durmstrang crest on the chest and the words 'ex-pupil' underneath the crest.

'Make sure you eat breakfast, wash your face, brush your hair, shave and are in the minibus by 9 am. That's when we set off for town,' Madam Fontana informed him, before bustling off to find Horace.

The elevator pinged, the door opening to reveal a soaking wet Horace clutching a large box of crystallised pineapple like it was a newborn baby.

'Would you believe that I left my wand on the sofa?' Horace said grumpily, going over to the sofa and pulling his wand out from the side of it.

'Hey Horace! I got you a present!' Tom looked up from the TV and passed Horace a wrapped present. Horace ripped off the 'Merry Christmas' paper (it was June) and opened the box to find...

Crystallised orange.

'I know you like pineapple, but they were too expensive, so-'

'I like pineapple! I don't want this!' he hurled the box across the room, where it hit the wall and fell onto the floor, making a dull 'thud' noise.

'Fine, be like that. I'll eat it,' Tom took the box off the floor, and settled back down in front of the TV.

'I say, Cygnus, old chum, you couldn't make me some popcorn while you're in the kitchen, could you?' Tom yelled through into the kitchen.

'Sure.' A couple of minutes later Cygnus emerged from the kitchen, carrying an almost-finished pack of chocolate cauldrons and a large bowl of popcorn, which he passed to Tom.

'This is spiffing, thank you,' said Tom, while Cygnus roared with laughter on his rocking chair, before chocking on a chocolate cauldron.

'Oh my goodness! Mr Black, are you alright?' cried Madam O' Donnelly, lightly slapping Cygnus o the back. With one last huge cough, a large piece of chocolate shot out his mouth and landed expertly in Tom's popcorn.

'Ewww! Germs! Someone get the hand sanitizer, quick!' he yelled, dropping the bowl on the floor, where it fell over and popcorn fell everywhere.

'THAT'S IT! I'VE HAD ENOUGH DRAMA FOR ONE DAY!' bellowed Madam Winters, storming in, like usual. 'EVERYONE TO THE MINIBUS NOW, OR PREPARE TO MISS THE 10 AM SHOWING OF 'THE MUPPETS'!'


	3. When All is Lost We Kill With Glowsticks

A/N: So I know this took a long time to write, and I'm sorry. But I've just found out the stats for this month on this story, and I'm asking, in a nice way, please review, and because that would absolutely make my day. I don't care if you've already reviewed, please review again, I'd be delighted. For every review, I'll give you...Honeydukes chocolate. And a lollipop, like the one in the Prisoner of Azkaban film :D

It was now Summer, and Madam Fontana and Madam O'Donnell had decided that, due to Horace's now-bulging waistline, everyone at Merlin's should sign up to do some form of exercise to get them through the Summer, and burn off all the calories from eating too many Easter eggs (especially in Horace's case).

'I know what I want to do!' Albus sang, waltzing (or trying to; his legs were getting weak in his (very) old age) across the room.

'And what's that, beardface?' sneered Tom. The two had been arguing, again.

'I'm going to do aerobics.'

'Aerobics? That's for sissies. _I'm_ doing horse-riding,' announced Tom, puffing his chest out proudly.

Albus burst out laughing. 'If the horse can stand to carry that ugly a rider!'

'Now, now, you two, calm down. You have both made lovely choices,' Madam O'Donnell told them, smiling that they had already chosen their sports. 'And what, pray, are you doing, Mr. Slughorn?'

'Ummm...' Horace mumbled, while sucking on a piece of crystallised pineapple.

'Well, you can start by not eating that,' she said, taking the manky pineapple by a corner and making a revolted face as she chucked it into a bin in the corner. 'And eat proper pineapple, it tastes so much better, and is a lot healthier.' She unwrapped a packet of pineapple, and handed Horace a piece, who shoved in into his mouth.

'Urgh!' he spat, the pineapple spraying across the room. 'What is this filth?'

'That, Horace, is one of your new dieting foods. No more crystallised pineapple for you.'

Horace threw himself onto the sofa, and proceeded to chuck the cushions across the room, one hitting the newest resident, Rita Skeeter, who had had to retire early due to bad writing injuries, and knocking her glasses clean off her nose. He also kicked his legs, waved his arms, and shouted abuse at Madam O'Donnell, who eventually got fed up, and waved her wand, causing the sofa to sprout legs and carry Horace up to his room, where he would remain locked-in for the rest of the morning.

'And how about you, Mr Black? Mrs Longbottom?'

'Skiing,' Cygnus replied, while Augusta readjusted the stuffed vulture on her hat.

'Mr Black, I don't think you're able-'

'I said skiing.'

'Right.' Madam O'Donnell sighed, writing it down on her clipboard. 'Augusta?'

'Umm...Hockey.'

'Fine.' Madam O'Donnell wrote that down too. 'How about you, Miss Skeeter? I would suggest cross-country running, or maybe scuba-diving for you.' But since Rita had run off to her room, and hadn't heard, Madam O'Donnell put down running for her.

'Right, I'm ready.' Albus appeared in the chair thing that goes up and down the stairs (A/N I don't know the name of it, but it's advertised on TV sometimes) wearing light pink lycra leggings, hot pink legwarmers, thick pink socks (he had a lot of them now in his very very old age) a pink tutu and his hair tied back with a pink scrunchie.

'Oh Merlin!' screeched Tom, as he toppled over the sofa with laughed, landing on his non-existent nose, which had been flattened many years ago in a similar accident. 'He looks so incredibly gay!'

'Don't be so mean! I can't help it if I'm gay,' Albus said, crossing his pink-clad arms over his chest, and scowling at Tom.

Tom's face turned from one of laughing like a maniac to one of horror. 'Oh Merlin. Albus, please don't go hitting on me.'

'Why would I go out with _you_? You're _far_ too young. I like older men.'

'Ewwww!' Tom shrieked, hobbling away from Albus as fast as he could. 'Albus likes dating 300-year-old men!'

'Please calm down, Mr Riddle, I will not tolerate that shrieking. You will wake up Mr Grindelwald, Mr Slughorn, Miss Bagshot and Mrs Longbottom from their naps!' Madam Fontana told him strictly.

'But he's _gay_!' Tom whined. 'He's gonna try and hit on me!'

'I 'm sure he's not. Meanwhile, you need to go to the opticians. They have just finished your grey contact lenses.'

'But I like having red eyes!'

'You know that muggles will suspect something. It's bad enough that you wear black all the time-'

'Some muggles do.'

'-and you're bald-'

'So are lots of muggles.'

-and you have no nose.'

Tom couldn't argue that some muggles walked around with no noses, so he simply said nothing.

'Now go and see Madam Winters, Tom. She needs to take you in five minutes if you have a chanceof making it on time.'

Tom sloped off towards the front door.

Madam Fontana, meanwhile, was making her way over to Albus.

'It's okay, Albus, to be gay-'

'Avada Kedavra!' he yelled, whipping out a glow stick, and pointing it at her.

'Excuse me? That's not very nice, you know.'

'Sorry. Peace out, bitches. Mischief managed.' And Albus went off to his room.


	4. Albus's Birthday Dinner

Sorry for not updating sooner! I wasn't really in a writing mood, and I had writer's block, so I apologize for being so useless. I will update more, promise!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, NO MATTER HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM (I'M OBSSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER).

Also, some credit, including the name of the pub, goes to my fellow dream team member HumanlyWumanly. I encourage you all to read her stories, as they are really good. Read them.

This story is dedicated to all those Dumbledore fans out there over the world who think Dumbledore is a freakin legend. Which he is.

AND PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU NOTICED AND LIKED MY LITTLE POTTER PUPPET PALS REFERENCE! IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THEM, WATCH THEM!

'Everyone into the minibus!' Madam Fontana yelled into the building via the doorway. 'If you don't come out now, we're leaving without you!'

Albus came tottering out, accompanied by three new residents; his brother, Aberforth, Minerva McGonagall and Abraxas Malfoy, all of whom got into the minibus.

The minibus, which had the words 'Merlin's Retirement Home for Magical Elderly Folk' printed on either side, with hot pink paintwork, and lime-green grass and flowers setting it off.

Gellert and Horace got in, and Madam O'Donnell followed to make sure everyone was strapped in (last time they went in the minivan, Horace fell off his seat and hit his head on the floor, while Tom cacled at the funny sight. The carers eventually calmed Horace down with crystallised pineapple, but for obvious reasons, they did not want a repeat of it).

From the interior came the usual moans of the residents:

'Albus, get off my foot!'

'I wanted to sit there, move!'

'Oh my Merlin, Horace, stop freakin' stuffin' ya face!'

Minerva just looked down her nose at them all, and gave them all one of her evil stares.

'Are we ready? Then let's go!' Madam Fontana sat down in the front next to Madam Winters, while Madam O'Donnell sat next to the driver. Albus was behind them, next to Minerva, and they were heatedly discussing muggle sweets and ice cream. Behind them sat Gellert and a very grumpy Horace, who sat in front of Aberforth and Abraxas, who were obviously trying to avoid sitting talking to each other. Behind them was Rita and Tom, who was stubbornly refusing to give her an interview on his life for her new book; 'Voldemort: Villanious or Valiant'. Augusta, Cygnus and his wife Druella brought up the rear as the driver (Stuart Backing) let out a manic laugh and sped round the corner. Stuart had, after all, gone to Ernie Prang's driving school in his younger years, and after only five minutes of driving, Horace was just about ready to throw up, and even Tom's milky white skin had turned a pale shade of green

Everyone in Merlin's had gone on the minibus for a very special reason today; it was Albus' 100th birthday, and everyone was going to the new pub that had opened in Godric's Hollow to celebrate. The pub was named 'The Decapitated Warlock' and Albus had specially requested to go there.

'Oh, I do hope I get a telegram from the Queen. She gives them to people on their 100th birthdays, didn't you know?' Albus clasped his hands together and smiled, while Minerva sat there awkwardly. She had no idea what a telegram was, or who a queen was, but judging from what came next, she wasn't the only one.

'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS A QUEEN?' came Tom's voice from near the back of the bus.

'Mr Riddle, if you use language like that, then carsick or not carsick, I will have to chuck you out the minibus,' Madam Fontana said loudly and sternly, standing up as she said this. She promptly fell over as Stuart rounded a bend in the road.

Finally, they got there, and ten minutes later, after all the elderly witches and wizards had been helped into their seats at a very long table, a waiter came up, wearing a chest- length fake beard and a baseball cap. He smiled at the sight of Albus' own knee-length beard, which he had plaited for the occasion, tied with pink glittery bobbles.

'I like your beard,' he said. 'May I take your orders?'

'A bowl of sherbet lemons, and some mint humbugs,' Albus told him.

'Anything for the birthday boy,' he said seeing the pink badge on Albus' chest.

'I'd like some crystallised pineapple, please,' said Horace. Tom groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

'Sorry, sir, I'm afraid we don't serve crystallised pineapple.'

'ARRRRRRGH!' Horace started to yell, before Madam Winters cast a silencing charm on him.

'I'd like lasagne please,' she said.

'Toad in the whole for me please.' Said Augusta .

'WHAT THE HE-' Tom started yelling, before Madam Winters cast a silencing charm on him too.

'And for you?' The waiter asked Tom. Tom stabbed angrily at the picture of the lobster, before mouthing a stream of mixed swear words and curses.

That was when Horace managed to get his wand out the pocket of his bulging waitcoat and mouth 'Finite Incantatem.' So, of course, Tom's swears words and curses were heard, loud and clear, so that even old Mrs Figg, who was going deaf, looked up from her cat photo albums with a puzzled expression on her face.

'...Hippopotamus...Republican...And Daniel Radcliffe...'

Minerva gave Tom the evil 'How-dare-you-I-hate-you-you-bitch-get-out-of-my-sight-before-I-brutully-hex-off-what-no-magic-can-put-back' stare, and he fell silent.

Albus stood up. 'You did not just use the Elder Swear.'

Voldemort gave an evil cackle. 'Oh yes I did. Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?'

'Well, I'd love a nice joint of roast beef, please,' Aberforth said, breaking the awkward silence.

'Great choice, sir,' the waiter replied.

Once everyone had ordered, Tom decided to go to the loo.

'Anyone wanna come with me?' He asked. No one replied, they just gave him the 'bitch please' look, and he walked off by himself.

Once there, he walked into the men's, and a man ran screaming from the room upon seeing him.

Tom looked into the mirror.

'Must be because I'm so handsome, he's scared of my beauty,' he decided. 'I mean, look at me. I have a pale complexion, nicely shaped nose, ruby red eyes and a fork tongue. What's not to like?'

Just then, a random wizard walked out of the cubicle, before taking one look at Tom, paling and running screaming out the door.

'What did I tell you?' he told his reflection. 'People are scared of me, I'm so beautiful.'

He went to the loo, and then went back to where he found his lobster steaming in front of him. He took it, and pinched Horace's nose with a claw.

'AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGH!' yelled Horace, and another silencing charm was cast, only this time, Augusta nicked his wand and hid it in her massive red handbag.

'Eat up!' commanded Madam O'Donnell, and everybody ate. They wanted to get a slice of Albus' birthday cake, after all.

'Come on everyone, join in!' said Madam O'Donnell, carrying a Barbie-doll cake with a Barbie in the middle and the cake making up her dress. She had magical candles sticking out every inch of her and her dress in order to fit 100 candles on the cake.

'Happy Birthday to you...' everyone started to sing.

Tom's version went something like this:

'Happy birthday to you,

I want to kill you.

I hate your long beard,

And I hate you too!'

(A/N Tom Riddle's version of the traditional birthday song is mine, and has been copyrighted by me. Ask permission before nicking it.)

Thankfully no one heard, and they all had a piece of cake, except Horace, who was protesting against food until he got hold of some crystallized pineapple.

'This cake is actually quite good, Albus,' Minerva commented.

'Why thank you, Minnie, it's my favourite sherbet lemon embedded cake.' Albus told her.

At this, Augusta, Tom, Abraxas, Minerva, Arabella and Rita scraped back their chair and ran for the toilets.

'Seems to me that everyone has bad cases of the runs.' Albus said pleasantly to Horace, who was gaping and looking from Albus to the toilet doors and back again.

Five minutes later, everyone was boarding the minibus again, and Stuart was revving up the engine, ready to head back to Merlin's.

'And get a driver's license, mate!' the waiter shouted, waving.

Since Stuart was practically deaf, Tom could only roar with laughter as Madam Winters' face turned green as they sped off once more.


	5. Awkwardness When 'Dory' is Touching You

A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating for so long! Feel free to lob imaginary rotten tomatoes at me for being so useless.

Also, the 'review' button at the bottom is there for a reason. I'm not saying you HAVE to leave a review, but it would be nice :)

And if you have any ideas for new Merlin settings, please let me know. I was thinking of doing a Weird Sisters concert, but i need more ideas! Additionally, if anyone is interested in reading a Doctor Who version of this story (although obviously not with the same plotline, if you can call it that) please also let me know, because I thought might be a good idea.

* * *

><p>'I'm sorry, Ms Winters, but I can't allow you to see Mr. Malfoy unless you are a member of his intimate family.'<p>

'But I-'

'I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the waiting room.'

'But I don't think he has any fam-'

'Voila!' came a voice from the doorway of St Mungo's hospital, and Lucius Malfoy stalked across the hallway to the receptionist's desk, followed by a platinum-haired boy who looked about four years old, wearing silk green robes.

'How is my father?' He asked the Welcome Witch. 'Lucius Malfoy, and this is my son Draco. Now, where is my father?'

'If you just sit down for a minute, I'll find out for you,'

Lucius sighed, and sat down in a red plastic chair in the waiting room of St Mungo's. Abraxas Malfoy had developed a nasty looking rash on his thigh which he had shyly managed to hide from the carers for five days before they demanded that he have a bath and they uncovered it. Now Abraxas was in St Mungo's, and none of the carers had any ideas where in the hospital he was.

'I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, but we need you to participate in a short DNA test to prove that Mr. Malfoy is your father,' said the Welcome Witch, after endless minutes of her organising papers and drinking butterbeer out of a wineglass.

'WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?' Lucius stormed over to the desk. 'A DNA test? Are you completely off your tiny mind? Who else has platinum-blond hair and grey eyes but a Malfoy?' Plus, we have the same surname, IN CASE YOU HADN'T NOTICED!'

'Sorry,' replied the Welcome Witch, though it was obvious that she was a bit sorry, and didn't care. 'I didn't make up the rules. Now, if you step into the first room on the right up that corridor, you can be tested.'

While Lucius Malfoy marched over to the foretold room, Draco stayed behind, slouched on his red plastic chair, with his small arms crossed and his face sullen and frowning. Albus, who was one of the group of elderly witches and wizards sitting in the waiting room (Albus, Minerva, Tom, Horace, Rita, Augusta, Cygnus and Gellert) hated to see such a look on such a young face, and so moved over to try and change Draco's mood.

'Hello. You must be young Draco. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, but you may call me Al. Or maybe Dory.' He looked over at Minerva as if to ask her opinion, but she pretended not to hear him, and continued to flick through the pages of _Teen Witch Weekly._

Draco, however, looked as though he would rather turn Albus into a flying pig with a moustache, but he didn't say anything.

'Oh Merlin, is that Draco Malfoy? I must get an interview!' cried Rita, running over to Draco, pulling out her quick-quotes quill as she went. 'Tell me about yourself, Draco!'

'For the sake of Morgana and Merlin, leave the poor kid alone!' said Aberforth. 'Albus, keep your hands to yourself, and Rita, just go away. No one likes you.'

'Well!' said Rita. 'I will make sure that the whole wizarding world knows about your rudeness, Aberforth!' with that, she marched over to the exit and disappeared.

'Well, thank Merlin for that!' cried Tom. 'She pisses me off so much!'

'Me too!' exclaimed Horace. 'She stole my pineapple once!'

'Who cares about your pineapple? You're too fat anyway!' Tom sniggered.

'Stop it, Mr Riddle and Mr Slughorn, your friend is severely ill, and you're arguing about Rita Skeeter!' Madam Winters told them.

'Actually, that is a bit pointless to argue about,' agreed Aberforth.

'Okay, Mr Malfoy, the tests have proven that you are a blood relation to Mr Malfoy, so you may see him,' came a voice from down the hall, and the sound of two pairs of feet walking off towards the wards.

The receptionist poked her head up from behind the desk. 'Ms Winters, the hospital will lets you know if there is any changes in Mr Malfoy's state. You may go now,' she said, in a very dull, bored voice.

'But you didn't tell us the diagnosis!' exclaimed Madam Winters.

'The head healer will send you a patronus when he finds it out,' replied the Welcome Witch in a please-go-away-now voice.

'Fine. Come on everyone, we're leaving.' And with those words, Horace heaving himself off his red plastic chair and Minerva sneakily tucking the copy of _Teen Witch Weekly_ inside her cardigan, they left.


End file.
